The Men With The Pink Triangle
by SirDippingSauce
Summary: Holocaust AU. Destiel. Dean and Castiel, two men living in Czechoslovakia during 1939, are weighed down by a pink triangular piece of cloth sewed onto the breast of their shirts. WARNING: THIS STORY CONTAINS OFFENSIVE WORDS, GRAPHIC SCENES, CHARACTER DEATH, AND ANGST.


**A/N: I had to do a bit a research for this story. Updates every week or so.**

**A warning: THIS STORY CONTAINS OFFENSIVE WORDS, GRAPHIC SCENES, CHARACTER DEATH, AND ANGST.**

**I don't own the rights to Supernatural, or Pink Triangle by John F. McCullagh**

* * *

**August 5, 1939**

_I remember when I walked the Earth  
in the days before I died.  
When Reich chancellor Hitler rose,  
after the Reichstag fire._

I remember a November night  
with a million shards of glass.  
I never felt more all alone,  
that night my lover passed.

After that, I had no rights,  
I was forced to bear this sign:  
A pink Triangle swatch of cloth,  
by this I was defined.

I remember some with David's star  
would look down their nose at me.  
Yet We were under the same sentence-  
had not our deaths all been decreed?

I remember when I walked the Earth  
in the days before I died.  
Before mein Fuhrer dug for me  
my grave up in the sky. 

_-John F. McCullagh_

* * *

Castiel Novak stared down at his feet as he walked, forcing himself not to meet the eyes of the people around him, as he walked through the downtown. The baker's shop produced fresh bread that made the entire square smell of warm grains, and delectable pastries in the display case made the children stop their games and press up to the glass, mouths and stomachs craving. The shoemaker had a trickle of people entering with old, worn shoes, then leaving with a brand new pair. The small Czechoslovakian village moved slowly, everybody took their time. Most of the town got along, and everybody new everybody—but that wasn't always a good thing. With their undying glares of malice and disgust like needles stabbing his turned back. Or their whispers rippling through a crowd as he walked past, almost made Castiel want to turn around and go home. If it weren't for the pink triangle on the breast of his coat, they would leave him alone. He didn't usually stop at one of the numerous shops during midday, when the crowd was thickest, but today was not a normal day. 5 years ago today, 30 year old Castiel met the great love of his life Dean.

Being such an occasion, Castiel had decided to pick up some fresh _Kolache, _a personal favorite of Dean's. The bakery was only a small walk from the men's apartment, so Castiel used his lunch break to go pick them up.

_Ding. _The door sounded as Cas entered the store, and the baker looked up from behind the cash register. "Top of the morning, Castiel!" Benes called. "Here to pick up yer' order?" Cas nodded, walking up to the counter. Benes handed him a paper sack filled with _Kolache, _and Cas slide him the appropriate _koruna_. Benes had been a longtime friend of Dean and Castiel, so he was a lot more considerate then the other shop owners throughout the town. "Happy anniversary," Benes called as Cas left the shop.

"Thanks!" Cas turned and called over his shoulder.

Dean started the long walk home from his job as a glass blower, with his knapsack bumping against his side with each step. His usually pace was replaced by a pace much quicker, more excited walk. Dean had always been excited to get home, but tonight was special. It was Dean's anniversary, and he had something extraordinary bouncing around against his thigh in the knapsack. For as long as Dean could remember, Cas had a strong love for the phoenix. So, for the past 2 months, Dean had been working on a glass phoenix to give to Cas this very night.

* * *

Dean turned the corner into one of the allies behind the pub, just a few blocks from home. The sun had started setting behind the horizon, and 6 o' clock was fast approaching. The back door of the pub opened abruptly, and closed with a slam. 4 or 5 men stumbled out, obviously sauced. Dean kept walking, but threw a quick glance over his shoulder. The men were following him.

"Hey queer!" one of the men called out. Dean grimaced, but didn't turn around. "Hey, I'm talking to you! Turn around homo!" The men continued to call Dean names, until he did finally turn around.

"What the fuck do you want," Dean snipped out.

The 5 men surrounded Dean, smiling deviously at him. "What are you doing out past your bed time, fag?" They smelled strongly of alcohol. The biggest one shoved Dean into another and the shoving match began. Dean hit the ground, and they all piled on top, punching, kicking.

Cas checked the clock hanging on the wall. It was way pasted 6 o' clock, when Dean usually arrives, and it was unlike him to be late.

"Don't worry," Castiel thought out loud. "He probably just stopped to use the bathroom, or had to stay late at work." But he knew it wasn't true.

Dean lifted his head from the cold pavement, joints aching. The men had grown bored, and with a final blow, left Dean broken and bruised in the ally. Dean picked himself up, and searched for his bag. A panic rushed through him, in fear of the gift being broken. His clothes had new rips and stains, and Dean felt like he's just gone through a meat grinder. Dean spotted the bag near the mouth of the ally, and dragged himself toward it. The men had gone through it, but nothing seemed missing. He held his breath as he opened the package with the glass.

The beautiful glass creature had broken into two pieces, its long fiery head separated from the body. The outstretched wings were still attached, and the ashy base still gleamed. Dean, while still upset, was glad only a small, fixable break had befallen his piece of craftsmanship. He collected the spilled belongings, and walked home. He assumed tears were welling in his eye, but it was so swollen shut, he didn't know. Finally, he arrived at his apartment, but didn't open the door right away. Dean didn't want to enter like this, and blamed himself for letting the men push him around. The sharp pain in his side prevented him from turning around, and he forced the key into the door.

* * *

The clock had long struck 8, when Castiel finally heard keys turning in the lock. He rose from his spot on the couch, and gasped at what came through the door. It was Dean, but he had a long gash running from his temple to his jaw line, and a swollen eye. Even though he had long sleeves on, Castiel could see the bruises disappear under his shirt. He didn't need to ask what had happened. Dean stared at his feet silently.

"Oh, Dean," Cas let escape from his lips, and he walked over to where Dean stood. Cas wrapped his arms around Dean, trying not to hurt him. Dean returned the sentiment, and placed his head in the crook of Cas's neck.

"Happy Anniversary," Cas could feel Dean smile as he spoke.

"Happy Anniversary, Dean." Cas pulled apart from Dean and placed a kiss on his swollen lips. He pulled Dean into the kitchen, and made him sit. As Cas rummaged around the medicine cabinet, Dean told him what had happened on his way home.

"Sit still so I can clean your cuts, and take off your shirt," Cas ordered Dean. Usually, Dean would make a joke about taking off his shirt in front of Castiel. Dean removed his soiled shirt, and Cas gasped at Dean's abdomen. Bruises of an assortment of colors trialed Dean's sides and stomach, and cuts traced his chest. Dean reached for his bag on the table where he had set it down, and pulled a small package out.

"I made this for you," Dean said, sliding the brown lump across the table. Castiel walked to the table and sat in the worn wicker chair adjacent to his partner, reaching for the package. "But it broke when the men jumped me."

He pulled back the edges of the paper to reveal a small, glass bird. The body of the bird was swirls of fiery reds and oranges, with a tiny hue of blue. The base was an ashy grey, the bird perched on top. The head was separated from the rest of the body, but was easily fixable. "This…Dean this is beautiful," Castiel breathed out, and Dean smiled sheepishly. "We can just glue the head back on, easily fixable."

"It's a phoenix," Cas added, smiling at Dean.

_"But why phoenix's," Dean asked staring at the ceiling, as he lay panting next to Cas. The sheets had long been thrown off the bed, and it was started to get cold. Dean shivered, and Cas pulled Dean into his arms. He closed his eyes, content but exhausted, and listened to Cas._

_"Because," Cas said, sounding much like a child explaining why they did something. The first early morning light peaked behind the blinds, and the first birds started their sing-songs. "They obtain new life by arising from the ashes of its predecessor."_

_"In Slovakian please, mister college boy." Dean mumbled into Castiel's bare chest._

_"They are reborn in its own ashes, its own previous fault. It learns and progresses."_

He set the bird down, and leaned in toward Dean. His lips brushed Dean's, and he whispered a quiet thank you, before Dean closed the gap between them.

Dean studied the pattern spread across the ceiling, his fingers brushing across Cas's chest as he held him in his arms. The bed was hardly big enough for both of the men, but they both cringed at the idea of not being able to sleep in the same bed together.

_"No, Dean!" Cas laughed, as the other man dragged him across one of the town's cobble road, running through small puddles from last night's rain. The water slowly soaked through their shoes and socks, and licked at the hem of their pants. "Just tell me where we're going!"_

_"It's a surprise," Dean sing-songed, as they maneuvered around corners and stray rubbish. _

"Oh shit, I forgot to tell you, I picked up some _Kolache _from Benes_,_" Cas mumbled. Dean chuckled, and kissed the man's shoulder.

"Thanks."

It was around 7 in the morning, when a loud knock startled Dean awake. He carefully got out of bed, not wanting to disturb his sleeping partner, and pulled on his pants and shirt. Running to the door, the knocking continued. "I'm coming!" Dean called.

Dean swung the door open, revealing to armed guards. "You are under arrest for the practice of homosexuality." They grabbed Dean's arms and one held him. "Is anyone else in the apartment?"

By now, Cas had woken up and thrown on some of Dean's clothes, and was walking into the living room. "Dean what's going— " The other guard grabbed Cas and threw him to the ground.

"Hey!" Dean yelled, and he struggled against the guard. The man slugged Dean and he stopped. Dean was forced to watch Castiel beaten by the guard. Tears sprung to Dean's eyes, as Cas reached out for Dean.

"Just stop already!" Dean cried. The guard hit him again.

"You shut up!" He hissed at Dean. He grew quiet, and glanced worriedly at Cas. "Hurry up, Zachariah" the guard holding Dean called.

"I'm coming, Raphael," the man growled. He lifted Cas off the floor by his arm, and pushed him forward. They were hustled out the door, and pushed down the three flights of stairs. The men grasped the hand rail, in fear of tumbling down. The guards talked hushed, and Dean didn't understand what either of the guards were saying, but Cas had taken German last year as one of his courses. While the two were shoved in the streets of their town, and into the back of a large covered truck, Castiel listened to the guards prattle behind him. Mentions of words like "camps" and "Buchenwald" were tossed around a lot between the men. Dean threw a small reassuring grin at Cas, but he could see the worry behind his stunning green eyes. Cas gulped, as the door to the back was sealed and locked.

**A/N: Thanks for making it down this far! If you noticed any errors, feel free to point them out. Sorry if this isn't historically pin-point accurate, but I'm trying my best. Review if you liked, or didn't like. **

**References: **_© Matt & Andrej Koymasky, 1997 – 2012  
Heinz Heger (1994)  
Liberation Was for Others: Memoirs of a Gay Survivor of the Nazi Holocaust (1997) Pierre Seel_


End file.
